


The Art Of Apology

by mansikka



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-21 07:31:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11939301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: After a pointless argument, Alec finds himself planning to apologize to Magnus yet again...





	The Art Of Apology

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing to see here but fluff... I... don't know if I think Alec apologizes too much, and I definitely don't think any of his apologies are trivial, but I do think he's an overthinker, and was trying to sound out some of the things inside his head. This happened instead :) x

If there is an art to asking for forgiveness, then surely by now, Alec thinks to himself, with a scuff of his boot against gravel, it is something he should have mastered; possibly to the extent of being able to teach. And whilst Clary’s the one that flourishes with colors that leap from whatever surface she’s working on, he’s the one that manages to take a situation that on first sight seems harmless, yet he still manages to taint, smear and smudge in shades of black.

Alec takes a glance down at what he’s wearing and grimaces, seeing further evidence of his perpetual monochrome, and lets his shoulders sag another inch.

He doesn’t mean to always be difficult. It isn’t that he gets enjoyment out of always being on alert. And though others have called him everything from miserable to… words he’d prefer never to hear again, let alone think about, all the times he wears that mask that fits over his features like a second skin, it’s been to protect something. To lead by example at times; even if that means helping others save themselves from themselves.

But who, he asks, staring out across a city that he’s both a part of and a stranger to, is going to save him from himself? He, who is forever apologizing, littering his vocabulary with a hundred shades of sorry, and still managing not to get things right. Seeking out the solace of rooftops and balconies that form part of the place he calls home, yet still repeatedly does all he can, without even really trying, to ostracize himself even from that.

Cursing to himself again, Alec looks down at the scoop he’s made in the gravel beneath his feet, and wonders how he’s going to dig himself out of this latest mistake.

Mistakes. Things he’s sure he never made half as many of, or even a fraction of, when he was growing up, and yet now, when he should be thriving on all that is good in his world, reaping all of the benefits of hard work and overcoming challenges, is when he’s making mistakes the most.

Maybe he’s just not cut out for being a part of people’s lives like he wants to be, Alec sighs to himself, then chides himself for being overly dramatic.  

Magnus, he thinks, closing his eyes to the reminder of the look on his face after his latest efforts to start an argument. Magnus is so good to him. Patient, tolerant, mindful of his inexperience, and so supportive; possibly, almost to a fault. Yet every time Alec thinks he’s got this relationship stuff figured out, presumes the gestures he’s making are good ones, there’s a disappointed smile sent in his direction. A look that says Magnus had hoped by now he’d understand.

Magnus, Alec sighs to himself, missing him already, and it’s got to be only, what; less than an hour since he’d spun out of the apartment on his heel, too scared to face the source of Magnus’ anger for him, too confused to attempt to figure out what he’s said wrong this time.

He makes Magnus sound like such a drama queen, Alec complains to himself then, because although that might be an element of his personality, it’s also an oversimplification of the way Magnus reacts to things. What else is he supposed to think, when Alec comes up with what sounds like excuses not to spend the evening with him as they’d planned, Alec groans to himself. What other reason is there for him to have looked so torn between hurt, and furious in his attempts to figure him out?

Alec sinks into himself a little further then, arms in a tight grip across his chest, as though that will do anything to contain how ridiculous he’s feeling.

He’d only meant to say that he was going to be a little later than expected. He was only going to ask Magnus how he felt about them having a longer morning together instead, since they couldn’t have all of the evening that they’d planned. But what had happened instead was some convoluted mess of accusation; either that Alec thought more of his work than he would ever think of Magnus, or that Magnus would never understand where his priorities had to lie.

Which is a stupid argument, Alec thinks to himself, because since he and Magnus have been, well; _him and Magnus_ , he’s been making so many changes to the way he handles things, saying no to assignments that will keep him longer from home—and yes; he does think of the loft as his home, he thinks to himself with a heavy, regretful sigh. Perhaps if he was to tell Magnus some of these things he’s been doing without his knowledge, that he’s quietly been arranging to make more of his time available for Magnus, then maybe Magnus would understand he does prioritize him more than he thinks. Not that he thinks Magnus would ever assume he’s got to be his only priority, of course, Alec amends to himself then, rolling his eyes and cursing up over the skyline for overthinking things in circles yet again.

So what’s he going to do about this, Alec asks himself, huddling further into his jacket yet not really sure why, because it’s not exactly cold. Maybe it’s him that’s cold, he sighs to himself, wishing not for the first time he was more like Izzy, passionate in her conviction, and never afraid to show her feelings to the ones she loves. Like Clary, even, Alec thinks, laughing a little harder at that; isn’t she the one who’s always saying that emotions are a good thing to expose? A strength rather than a burden? Something to be solidified, and guided by, perhaps? Why can’t he be more like that?

Only, he’s been trying, Alec defends to himself. He reaches for Magnus without thinking, and he’s kissed him openly and without embarrassment in front of people multiple times. He’s never held back from standing next to him when they’re in a group setting, resting a discreet hand on his back, because he knows Magnus likes the contact. Hell, he’s always the first one to whisper sweet good mornings, and won’t even consider leaving for the Institute until he’s received a dozen kisses back.

He’s practically sappy, Alec huffs with a frown, thinking of the mocking disdain in Jace’s tone on the multiple occasions he’s accused him of such a thing, and the simple shrug of shoulders he'd returned that said he didn’t give a damn. So why is it whenever it’s anything important, Alec demands to himself, that he manages to screw things up so bad?

Maybe if he could just get his words out better, freer, without second guessing them, he thinks, arching his neck. Perhaps if he would just blurt things out without weighing the impact of his words before speaking; maybe that’s the thing he needs to do to make Magnus realize that for him—for _them_ , there is no going back.

Back, to the cold, lonely person he used to be. Back, to never knowing what it is to love and be loved in return. Back, to sleeping, and waking alone, never having someone else to hold on to when days were difficult, or have someone to scoop up in his arms in celebration of a success.  

All these things he has with Magnus, Alec thinks then, smiling unconsciously, remembering rose-sellers chased down on sleek city streets in London, and the juice from a really excellent kebab being wiped from his chin in Marrakech. Of kisses under moonlight from a hotel balcony in Paris, and watching the sun rise in shimmering ripples across the vast expanses of a desert he’s forgotten the name of, but not the peace of being there with Magnus. Magnus has shown him everything, has given him so much; is it really so hard for Alec to give him something as simple as himself right back?  

Alec begins walking, drawn as he is always drawn to Magnus, rehearsing his words on the walk back to the loft as he does with every apology, checking the strength and cadence of his tone, and second-guessing all the things that Magnus might say back.  

He thinks of the key in his pocket, the symbol that says he’s going home, not just visiting a place that he’ll have to walk away from in the morning. Just heading for the place where he belongs.

His work is done for the evening anyway, their patrol after an alert at the Institute an outstanding success. And even better, he’s not on any duty at all tomorrow now, not just free in the morning; which is what he was trying to say to Magnus earlier, when he’d sped in speaking at a hundred miles a minute, already planning his strategy of attack for the demons they were confronting. If only he’d been plotting his words for Magnus better, he thinks with a grimace, perhaps he wouldn’t be in the predicament he is now.

A gift, he thinks, wondering if such a thing would be received as a token apology, and if picking something out would be little more than a stalling tactic preventing him from getting back to the loft. Something to bolster him when he’s pleading with Magnus to hear him, to kiss his way to forgiveness that, deep down, Alec’s fairly sure he’s going to be on the receiving end of anyway, no matter how much he’s made Magnus upset. Magnus is good like that, kind, forgiving with him in ways that Alec doesn’t always understand, knows he doesn’t grant so easily to other people, and too often thinks he doesn’t even deserve.  

The apartment building looms in the distance, and Alec’s hands are still empty. Should he bring him something to eat? Flowers? That gold gilded book in the window of the bookstore they keep on passing, that Magnus’ eyes are continually drawn to; what is the best thing he can take him to show Magnus that he is sorry, that he feels like an idiot for forever getting things wrong?

He’s still empty handed when he enters the building, even more so as he pulls the key from his pocket, pausing outside the loft apartment door. Maybe it’s better like that, he thinks, not having any token gestures. Maybe words will be all the gesture Magnus needs from him, if only he can find the right words to say, and perfect the order in which to get them out.  

Alec sighs to himself, pleads for a touch of courage, and traces his thumb over the edge of the key before raising it enough to slot into the lock.

The loft door swings open, and the gasp of surprise that falls from his mouth is not overdramatic, Alec tells himself, his eyes blowing wide as Magnus stares back at him just as shocked.

“Alec,” Magnus says, soft, and edged with an emotion that Alec can’t quite interpret.  

“Hey,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady, “I—”

“I’m sorry,” Magnus blurts out, his face pinching in contrition, and Alec feels a little out of his depth.

“I—”

“Jace told me,” Magnus continues, screwing his nose up in a way that Alec feels himself softening at seeing, wondering about Magnus’ reaction if he tells him he thinks it’s cute.  

“What—what did he tell you?” Alec asks, guarded, racking his brains for all kinds of possibilities, and coming up blank.

“That you had an incident at the Institute,” Magnus replies, raising his shoulders a little, “he was quite… adamant, when he called, that I should have… I should have listened, when—”

“We always have an incident at the Institute,” Alec retorts, cutting him off, frowning at the truth of his words, because they’re both so very aware of that. He hadn't even realized he'd said anything to Jace about his fight with Magnus, Alec thinks then, feeling a stab of embarrassment that Jace might have known without a single word.

“I know,” Magnus agrees, belatedly backing away from the doorway and ushering Alec in, “I just… I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to explain,”

“I’m… sorry that I didn’t… explain myself right,” Alec counters, holding his breath for the gentleness in Magnus’ eyes.

“I’m sorry that… you continue to go out of your way to surprise me, yet I keep spoiling it by… jumping to conclusions,” Magnus adds, sighing as he closes the door behind Alec and turns to regard him.

“Surprise you?” Alec asks, with a slight shake of his head showing his confusion.

“Jace said that you were planning on spending your morning with me. To make up for this evening—circumstances that were beyond your control anyway,”

Alec shifts on his feet, cursing himself for ever talking to Jace about his intentions, and not knowing what kind of expression he’s supposed to give Magnus back.

“Magnus, I—”

But Magnus has other ideas for his mouth that don’t involve speaking, leaning up to claim a kiss from him with a force that backs Alec against the door he’s just come through. He’s surprised, but not in any way that’s bad, and it only delays his reactions for a second, lifting his arms to wrap around Magnus’ waist to draw him in, and ducking down the fraction he needs to thoroughly kiss him back.  

Magnus smiles against him, sighs into the kiss, leaning against him in a way that suggests he knows Alec will always hold him up, then pulls away, and drops his face into his neck.

“Perhaps we… need to get better at this speaking thing,” Magnus suggests, though the words are muffled against his shoulder, and Alec turns just enough to kiss the side of his head, mumbling in agreement, stroking a wide hand in a savoring sweep up his back.

“Or maybe the listening thing,” Alec amends, because maybe that’s the thing they’re both a little more guilty of. Not weighing the sense of the words they’re hearing from one another, leaving them both jumping to conclusions, and leading to evenings like this one to overthink things, before inevitably finding their way back.   

Because no matter how far they seem to push one another away at times, Alec realizes with a grateful smile, they always, always manage to find their way back.

“I’m sorry,” he kisses into Magnus’ ear, pulling him into as tight a hug as he is able, the relief washing through him as though he’s getting his real self back.

“I’m sorry too,” Magnus replies, following it up with a long kiss to his cheek before pressing his nose into his neck again and breathing, like he’s been deprived of the scent of him for too long.

And for all the fretting, worrying, and planning he’s done on the way over, their argument is over even quicker than it had begun. Alec huffs to himself, pushing away from the door and propelling Magnus backwards, then raising his hands to cup his face and pull him back into a kiss that doesn’t taste of forgiveness, but does taste of the kind of making up they get to do behind the closed doors of their bedroom. He steers Magnus that way, and Magnus goes with a willing hum, smiling repeatedly against his lips.

“Now,” Magnus says, low and pressed into a spot just beneath his jaw, “what’s this I hear about you planning on bringing me breakfast in bed?”

“Dammit, Jace,” Alec sighs out in frustration, pulling back from Magnus a touch and planning all kinds of unpleasant things for his Parabatai. Not that that wasn't exactly what he was planning, he thinks then, wondering just what else he's let out to Jace without realizing.

“It’s okay, Alexander,” Magnus tells him, his smile breaking into something endearing, something that says he thinks _Alec_ is the one that’s adorable. Alec doesn’t know what to do with that, so grabs him close again to kiss him back.

“If you really want to bring me breakfast in bed,” Magnus mumbles into his skin as he begins to help Alec out of his jacket, “then perhaps I can make a request,”

“Anything,” Alec tells him, thankful that the shirt Magnus is wearing is not one of those beautiful, complicated affairs with too many buttons and laces for him to get through. He doesn’t think he’s currently got the patience for a challenge like that.

“I’ll open a portal,” Magnus continues, holding on to Alec’s waist as he kicks his boots off and to the side.

“Where am I going?” Alec asks, more interested in clasping his hands around Magnus’ back to undo the buckle of his belt that he’s spun around there.

“I’ll tell you in the morning,” Magnus smiles, his own fingers already at Alec’s fly.

“Does this mean I’m gonna have to memorize a whole bunch of things in another language again?” Alec asks, and there’s a slight whine of protest to the edge of his words that, really, he doesn’t mean at all.

“It might,” Magnus concedes, shrugging briefly before gripping on to Alec’s shoulders as he helps him out of the remainder of his clothes, “I do like to hear things on your tongue that are… foreign to you. I like the care you take over each word, as though you are caressing them in turn, to make sure they come out right,”

“More like I don’t wanna order you the wrong thing and make you disappointed,” Alec retorts, though is more interested in the way Magnus is backing him up towards the bed.

“Either way; I like the way you pronounce things you are unsure of. I like that you are willing to try,”

“For you,” Alec says, spinning them so he’s got the perfect view of Magnus pinned beneath him against satin sheets, “anything for you,”

“Mm,” Magnus agrees, stroking up over Alec’s back as he settles above him, “and that is why you will always win any and every argument we have, Alexander,”

“Because I’m… ordering you breakfast in… Paris? Or London? Or that street vendor place you liked so much when we were in Milan?”

“No,” Magnus replies, “not because of that. Although you are correct; that place in Milan was excellent,”

“Then what?” Alec asks, nuzzling against his cheek.

“Because you will do just about anything to make me happy,”

“Obviously,” Alec huffs, because isn’t it?

“You misunderstand,” Magnus smiles, wrapping his arms tight around him as he arches underneath him, “it isn’t because you would do anything for me—though that is, obviously, something I very much appreciate,”

“Then what?” Alec demands, though it’s soft, and kissed along the length of his collar bone.

“It’s simply that; that you like to make me happy. That you are willing to do anything to try to make me that,”

“Why wouldn’t I want to see you happy?” Alec asks, perplexed by the idea. There’s a brief shadow that crosses Magnus’ face then, but it speaks volumes. Alec cradles him close, dropping repeated kisses into his neck.

“That you’re happy, Magnus, is important to me. More important than… all the things we do together, or all the places you can take me. All of that; more than anything, I just… I like it when you’re happy,”

“You might be… you _are_ , the first to ever… to ever prioritize that,” Magnus says softly then, and it breaks Alec’s heart. To think that other people have shared their time with this beautiful man lying beneath him, and having never truly appreciated the sun that is his smile.

“Magnus,” he says then, but he’s not sure what he wants to tell him, not sure what words are big enough, or strong enough, to make him understand. So he doesn’t say anything else at all, just kisses him sweetly, wraps him up in his arms so Magnus knows how precious he is to him. And maybe that’s something he can give him that is bigger, better than any token gesture he could have found on the way back to the apartment.  

Alec can give him himself. And even if, to him at least, it doesn’t feel that he alone is enough, Magnus seems to disagree. For the brightness in his eyes, the wonder in his touch, and the smile that turns up the corner of his mouth in a way that says Alec has got this one right.


End file.
